


in the deepest depths i lost myself (see myself through someone else)

by andrea_deer



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Did I Mention Angst?, M/M, Nor is James, Panic Attacks, Sickness, Thomas is not alright, post reunion, prompt answered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 07:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11226108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrea_deer/pseuds/andrea_deer
Summary: Hope was important, but it needed to be the quiet, persevering kind, not the one bursting at every possibility, getting attached too quickly. Thomas before his imprisonment never thought there was a difference and how important the distinction was.Answer to the prompt: "Don't worry, I'm right here, and I'm not leaving" from tumblr, asked by @bisexualpirateheart





	in the deepest depths i lost myself (see myself through someone else)

They've been in this house for a month. It seems abandoned, no one bothered them here, no one followed them so far. They tried not to come out much during the day, still hiding and waiting for the possible pursue. Thomas carefully did not think of this house as theirs, as a house that could possibly become theirs, just like he did not think of any previous hide-outs as anything permanent. He greeted the sight of every new place with curiosity and joy at finally being able to see more of the world, but never with the hope that this might be his to see for years to come. Hope was important, but it needed to be the quiet, persevering kind, not the one bursting at every possibility, getting attached too quickly. Thomas before his imprisonment never thought there was a difference and how important the distinction was. 

Now, after a month spent in the house, the hopeful thoughts started seeping into his mind and he let them. 

It was not too big of a house, it would suit the two of them and there was enough place for the second bedroom for the sake of propriety or guests.

The orchard seemed highly neglected, but still showing some promise. Thomas could hardly bare the thought of working in the field again, but the idea of growing something was a tempting one. And surely they would need some sort of income... And something to do as well... People always cast less suspicion on those who were busy with an honest job.

The city was close enough to be of use but far enough to not disturb them.

They could have a life here, he thought as he let the more mundane hopes go through his mind. Where he would put the bookcase. How they would need a table in the main room. That they could probably get a horse and how he hoped James knew how exactly to buy one. Thomas' experience with working horses was thin at best. His experience with buying one even worse.

His thoughts plummeted down the path of how little he really knew about the life of a free man who was not supported by his family's money.

He learned a lot in the last decade. Things he never thought he would be able to do. He could work on the field. He could cook well enough not to starve, even though his repertoire of dishes was rather plain and his sense of measurements more adjusted to cooking for thirty men rather than two. He learned far more about the human nature in general and his own as well. The sure certainty that one only can know oneself through what he's been through was engraved in his scars and callused hands. And yet now, finally free, he felt as lost as a child once again.

He had no idea how much anything cost, he could be cheated twice over. He almost forgot how to talk to people and not seem like someone from an entirely different part of the world or at least different part of the society. He had no idea how to blend in and while it might've been an entertaining tale, when he tried to dress as a commoner so James' could give him a proper tour of London, now it seemed less thrilling and more terrifying. 

Left to his own devices he would be found or killed within days. If he lost James-

He stopped his thoughts immediately with the strength well practiced over the years.

He gasped for air, sliding down the wall to sit curled up in the corner of the main room, feeling as if he was drowning. As if he was diving deeper and deeper with every step he took from the plantation and finally there was no air for him at all and no way he could run back fast enough to survive. His insides turning, twisting as he gasped for air, trying to control it and waiting for it to pass.

The sky turned gray with the first lights of the morning when the spell started to fade. He laid on the floor, panting as if he run for miles, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing the bile down.

Now was not the time for this.

He was not alone yet.

Eventually, he managed to heave himself up and slowly make his way towards the bedroom.

James laid in bed, covered with everything Thomas could find in the house. An old blanket, some thick rugs that could've been clothes before. There wasn't much and James shivered underneath it all, though he tried to shove the covers off of him. He was burning up again.

Thomas went to his side and took the cleaner cloth he made from the shirt he took from the plantation. The water he left in the chipped basin was still cold enough, the night air not as thick as it would become during the day. Carefully he dampened the cloth and run it over James' overheated skin. His face, his neck, down his chest which was moving with shallow, rattled breaths. The sound of them haunting Thomas.

James' mumbling became louder and slowly slightly more understandable.

"No... please... don't leave... please..."

"Shh," Thomas asked quietly, with one hand petting James sticky, dirty hair and the other moving steadily with the cold cloth to lower his temperature. "It's alright. I'm here. It's going to be alright."

"Nonono... we can't stop now... we need to go..."

James struggled as if to get up and Thomas pressed him back into bed. He was relieved he didn't have to fight James in the midst of his nightmares, but the ease with which James was pushed back frightened him. 

"We're safe here, James. We're alright."

"You can't... not like this..." James tossed his hands, looking tortured and haunted as Thomas tried to calm him with his touch with only partial success. "... for nothin'... don't...."

The urge to get a doctor fought in Thomas with the fear of being caught. Of being imprisoned again. James being imprisoned. What if they just killed him anyway? What if he died on the way to prison? Was it all worth risking now? For a doctor that might not be able to help? And how was Thomas supposed to pay him? They had nothing, the clothes on their back and few coins left from what they stole right after leaving the plantation. It might be enough for the doctor, but how was Thomas to know? And what he will do after this? He could go for few days without food, he knew that well enough now, but James? After such illness, he will need to build up his strength. Would they even be allowed to stay here?

He kept shushing James, who mumbled on, protesting against something, begging and pleading, he was breaking Thomas' heart, but he made no move to leave the house.

He wondered how he will explain this to James if he recovers. How James' is not the only one of them who changed into a less honorable shape. How often Thomas debated taking action over the risk it brought and how often he pretended he didn't see the cruelty of the guards or pleading stares of the inmates. How often was he deaf to pleas and how often he shared what he learned with the guards to avoid trouble and half-cocked attempts at rebellion that would doom them all. How often he wanted to rage and protest and fight, but the still so fresh memory of Bethlem bent his neck into submission.

How now he had to make a choice: risk their lives or only risk James' and yet he sat by the bed James suffered on and kept quieting him down, not only because he wanted him to find some peace, but because the sounds in the dark, empty room sounded too loud and too risky. 

James trashed in the bed again, Thomas' hands on his shoulders unable to calm him down.

"Don't! No! Don't- Don't leave! Don't!"

He was tossing around as Thomas tried to press down his flying hands, touching his face and pressing closer to ease his fears.

"Shhh, love, shhhh."

James fell back on the bed as if the strings were cut from him, but his face did not relax, it looked even more tortured as Thomas pressed soft kisses to it, his hands running through James' hair as he kept mumbling with tortured, painful sobs. 

"Don't leave," he mumbled his sweaty face pressing against Thomas' colder hands.

"I'm here, love, I'm here," Thomas assured quietly.

"Please, John---" Thomas' hands stilled for a brief moment as his breath caught slightly, before he pressed another kiss into James' brow, right under the line of his hair. "Don't---"

"Don't worry, I'm right here," Thomas assured quietly, "and I'm not leaving."

He kissed James' forehead. It was far too warm to the touch. Perhaps even worse than it was at night. He held him close, uncertain anymore if he was the one giving comfort or seeking it.

"He wouldn't let you die, would he?" he said quietly, his thoughts now on the man he didn't get to meet, but who granted him another chance at life with James. "Regardless of risk and your opinions."

He moved away to look at James' tortured face. James still hasn't said much about the man that betrayed him and saved his life, but he was still angry and hurt over their parting. That much was obvious even when he was conscious enough to hide his feelings on the matter.

Thomas could not find in himself anything but gratitude towards the mysterious John Silver. Cruel, selfish part of him that grew alarmingly in the last decade, was certain that alive James was the best outcome, even if he was also hurt and betrayed.

He realized with suddenly that now, thinking of John Silver he not only felt gratitude but also shame. The disgusting, burning twist of it deep in his stomach.

"He would have saved you, wouldn't he?" he asked quietly, his voice thin and weak. Barely audible over James mutters and moans.

He put the cloth back into the water-filled basin.

"He already did once, didn't he? His efforts really shouldn't go to waste..." He smoothed down James' hair again and kissed him quickly once again before standing up to leave the room. "I will be back as soon as possible, love."

He did not pause on his way out, worried if he does he will stop for good. He moved quickly, determined to fight back the urge to hide and trying to avoid overthinking his decision, to outrun the growing fear. He walked as fast as he dared towards the nearby town, hoping he didn't just doom them both. 

Hope was all he had now.


End file.
